


The Golden Apple

by traveling_classicist



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Tumblr: imagine-loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveling_classicist/pseuds/traveling_classicist
Summary: A Loki imagine:A Midgardian raised on Asgard.Something, that no mortal deemed possible.You were taken in, by the King and Queen of Asgard, as an infant.But, you never imagined you would live out your days here.You don’t know much about myself.Who your parents are, where you were born, or why you were abandoned.Do you regret it? No.You’re thankful for the life you’ve been given.However, that doesn’t mean your mind never wanders.Relationships unfold and secrets are revealed, as you attempt to live your life upon Asgard, as one of Royalty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written fanfiction before. This is my first! I've only just gotten an AO3 account and am unfamiliar with all this so getting used to it as well. Please go easy on me! Loki will make his appearance in the coming chapters. I've changed some things from the original imagine. Enjoy!

A light haze settled over the fjord. A chilled mother, carrying a small infant child in a sling across her chest, walks across the frozen landscape, stepping lightly on the freshly fallen snow. Lazy snowflakes float down from the clouds. The infant leans out of the safety of her mother’s sling, giggling, arms outstretched to catch one of the tiny ice crystals. She cups the snowflake in her hands, bringing them close to her face to admire the prize within but all she finds are her empty hands. Annoyed by the ice crystal’s disappearance, she tries again, determined to capture the dubious snowflake.  
  
Her mother watches happily. The child is strong and healthy; ready for her first winter. Born in the early spring, she’d never seen snow before. The pure joy displayed in the little baby’s wonderment filled her mother with pride. The winter had come early this year. The village was unprepared and their family’s harvest was rationed heavily in expectation of a long winter. The young mother was out to spear a few fish for their cache before the ice set in. She carried a sharpened spear, enhanced by long, bone spikes tied to its tip. She came to a small stream that ran down to the fjord below. Leaning over to set down her basket, she braced the little one’s bottom with her free arm. The child waved her hands frantically, in an attempt to catch a lock of mother’s hair to play with. Having fallen for that trick ten to many times, the mother quickly straightened up, flipping her hair back over her shoulders, removing the temptation.  
  
_This may be a bit tricky_ , she thought.  
  
She’d never tried to fish with the baby before. To set her down would mean risking her stumbling off into the thicket. She’d already taken her first bumbling steps and while not yet able to walk with any amount of stability, she had developed an uncanny ability to disappear rather quickly if mother didn’t keep eyes on her. She looked around for a safe place to set the child down. The baby, seemingly aware of the freedom she was about to receive, bounced mischievously in her sling, when mother’s eyes settled on the basket.  
  
_I have the perfect place for you, little one _, she thought, gently placing the child into the woven basket.__  
  
The child’s glee trounced by her little prison, she pouted at the bottom of the basket. Her mother turned away proud of her ingenuity. Curious, now, to see what mother was up to, the baby struggled to stand on wobbly legs, bracing herself on the wall of the basket as she peeked over the lip. Her mother stood perched on the edge of a rock, still as the mountains around them. The water swirled about the rocks in this place, creating a small eddy for the fish to hide. The mother stood with the spear’s deadly tip poised to strike. The baby watched in awe from her prison. In a blur, her mother speared the water, sending a splash into the air. The shock of the blow to the water, sent the baby back on her bum, shaking the basket. The mother removed her spear from the water, a fat fish flopping back and forth on the end. Finishing the job with a sharp blow to the rocks, she tossed the fish near to the basket.  
  
The baby’s fascination with mother’s work was over. She quickly sought something else to hold her attention. She began to shake the basket, whining, desperate to escape and play in this new place. Remembering the child’s toy in her sling, the mother quickly snatched it up to calm the cranky baby. Leaning over the basket, she lowered the little straw animal to her. She happily took it, occupied again for the next few minutes, at least. The child played with her little toy gleefully; a little wolf made of straw and twine that her father had given her.  
  
The mother worked quickly, spearing several more fish and tossing them over to the basket. The clouds had thinned and the mother could just barely see the sun through them. It was nearly noon. They had been out since early this morning and the little one had been so well behaved.  
  
_It is far too quiet _, she suddenly realised.__  
  
Running over to the basket, she peered down at the small child curled up at the bottom, cuddling her little toy wolf. Relieved, she delighted in the momentary peace. She returned to the edge of the stream and cleaned the end of her spear in the frigid water. She turned her face back up to the sun, hoping to feel some of its warmth. Noticing the halo about the shining orb, she realised her time was up and quickly began gathering her things. She picked up the contented child and placed her back in the sling, tossing the fish into the basket and hefting it onto her shoulder. She glanced back down at the water once more. Ice crystals began to creep along the water’s surface in sharp, rigid patterns. A storm was coming.  
  
A biting wind rolled down the mountains, billowing through the trees. The clouds began to thicken and darken, as the temperature dropped off drastically. The snow fell harder than before as the mother pulled up her hood to shield herself and the child against the wind. Trudging through the deepening snow, she saw the roof of their home on through the trees, at the edge of the forest. She let herself in through the gate.  
  
_Something’s off _, she thought. The animals that normally greeted her were nowhere to be seen. Fearing they had escaped again, she rounded the back of the house to the lean-to stable. Upon entering, she found all the animals huddled in the corner of the small building. The chickens hopped up onto the goats’ backs or hid among their hooves, clucking anxiously. Even the strong horse was unnerved by the weather, his ears pinned back against his neck, pawing the earthen floor with his heavy hooves. At least they haven’t gotten out again, the mother thought, shuddering at the memory of the last time she had to chase them about the village.__  
  
The baby reached out to pet the horse but mother turned to leave before she could touch the anxious creature. They went into the house, welcomed by the warmth of the hearth. The mother placed the basket on the table and removed the baby from the sling. She was clearly hungry and reached for her mother’s breast. Sitting for what felt like the first time this day, the mother rested while the child fed. When she had had her fill, the mother set the child down on the floor on the soft fur of a deer. She gave her the toy and straightened up to start gutting the fish on the table. The wind howled against the house, shaking the rafters.  
  
Later that evening, her husband returned from the village. He had been out hunting in the morning and selling their surplus furs in the market in the afternoon. The village itself sat on a large piece of land stretching out into the fjord. On one side, a massive mountain, the other, the water of the fjord. Longhouses, market stalls, workshops, and small homesteads dotted the landscape. One road led from one side of the village to the other along the foot of the mountain range, through the busy marketplace. The market lay at the village’s centre, facing out towards the water. At the docks, long boats sat at anchor, awaiting the melting of the thick ice. The small family lived a distance from the village centre, on a small farm just outside the safety of its borders.  
  
“Hello, my darlings,” he greeted them, scooping up the giggling child and kissing his wife.  
  
The baby grabbed a fistful of beard and gave it a tug. Her usual greeting. Removing the child’s paws from his beard, the father picked up another log and tossed it onto the fire, cradling the little one in his other arm.  
  
“What a catch!” he exclaimed at his wife as she spitted two fish for them. “Fit for the gods,” he said wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing another kiss on her lips.  
  
She smiled smugly at him. Wanting some attention the baby made another grab at her father’s beard. He caught her little hand before it could entwine itself in his facial hair again. He gave her a stern look but could not help but laugh at his beautiful little daughter. She showed him her toy and he gently took it and played with her, holding the little wolf to her face and making growling and howling noises. The child squealed with delight at her father’s mimicry.  
  
The wind picked up again, slamming against the sides of the house. Mother and father both looked up and then at each other. She took the child and wrapped her in a warm blanket and put her down to bed.  
  
“Strange for the gods to bring winter so early, don’t you think?” she prodded her husband, hoping he could explain.  
  
“Who can say,” he mused, absentmindedly staring into space.  
  
_I’ll pray to the gods anyways _, she thought.__  
  
They ate their supper in silence, listening to the howling wind. Outside, the snow swept up against the sides of the house, creating large drifts. The wind cracked through the trees, sending their branches waving in a fury. An angry thunder rolled across the land. The young couple banked the fire, ensuring it would stay lit through the night. They settled into their bed, nestled in heavy furs and blankets. In her crib, at the foot of the bed, the baby clutched her wolf to her chest wondering what sorts of wolves could be making such noise outside.  
————————————————————————————————--------------------------------------------------------------------  
A sudden, loud blast woke the house. The baby cried, cowering in her crib. Mother came and scooped her up, holding her to her chest. Father jumped up, grabbing his axe as he ran to the door. He threw it open to hear the screams of the villagers.  
  
“Stay here. Stay hidden,” he ordered and set out into the snow.  
  
The door slammed shut in the gale. The mother could hear the screams carried up on the wind. She shuddered and clutched her baby to her chest, desperately trying to calm her. As the child’s crying died down, the mother quickly looked around. She picked up her own sword and took shelter in the back room, close to the door for a quick escape. Without the warmth of the hearth, the bitter cold set in. She had never felt cold like this. Her breath came in icy puffs of mist. The screams started up once more.  
  
“Run! Run away!” they screamed. Some of the voices were abruptly cut off. She turned her head away from the noise, clutching her baby tighter.  
  
_A raid in winter? No one raids in the winter _, she thought.__  
  
She sat as still as could be in the dark room when the door behind her suddenly burst open. She stood, sword raised, ready to strike. Her husband, wide-eyed, stood in the doorway. He took her wrist and lowered the sword, turned and yanked her out the door into the cold. Her sword fell into the snow but she could not stop to take it up again with her husband dragging her to the lean-to.  
  
“What’s happening?” she shouted over the wind.  
  
“Jotnar!” he shouted back.  
  
He grabbed the horse and threw his wife and child up onto its back. He gave her the reins and shouted over the wind, “Ride down to the road!”  
  
Before she could kick the horse on, he pulled his wife close down to him, pressing his hand to her lovingly to her cheek, then gently caressing the child’s face in the sling. The baby clutched his fingers tightly, staring into his face, his gentle visage calming her as always. The mother put her hand on his cheek in an equally loving touch. He took her wrist, leaning into her touch, savouring it.  
  
A jotunn broke through the fence. The horse reared up but the mother held on tight and moved the horse away. The father lifted his axe against the monstrous frost giant. Its blood red eyes froze the mother in the saddle while the child screamed. She watched in terror as her father engaged the beast with two fast blows, knocking it back over the broken fence. The monster countered, swinging a massive arm, encased in sharp-edged ice. The blow hit the father across his arm and back and sent him staggering towards the horse. His axe fell from his injured hand. He stared longingly up at his wife and child once more. Before she could say a word to her husband, he slapped the horse’s rump and they tore out across the yard. She turned her head to see the monster towering over her husband, arm raised to attack. They rounded the house, blocking the scene from her view but she heard its aftermath. Her husband’s agonised shriek rang in her ears. The baby screamed in her arms.  
  
The horse leapt over the gate and galloped out through the snow. She tried to follow the outline of the path in the drifts but the horse made its own way through the drifts. The snow stung her eyes as the mother tried desperately to control the horse. The wind whipped at her hair and she hugged the screaming baby close. Weaving in and out of the trees, they rode towards the road, picking up speed. They galloped between two trees when she felt something swing by her head. Guttural roars erupted from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she found that what she thought had been trees, were two giant figures, one of which had taken a swing at her. The monsters did not give chase, only stood roaring at them as they fled. She faced forward again and gasped pulling back hard on the reins. The horse dug its hooves into the snow to stop before the massive frost giant looming over them. The mother and child flew over the horse’s shoulder. The mother turned to land on her back, the baby clamped to her chest. They landed in the soft snow at the giant’s feet. She screamed as his ice covered arm came down over them. She rolled out of the way just in time and staggered to her feet. The horse reared up at the beast, kicking out with its hooves. Distracted by the creature, the giant cut it down, giving the mother and child an escape.  
  
She ran frantically through the snow. She could see more and more of the giant, blue figures running towards her, seemingly herding her towards the village. Suddenly, bright flashes shot down from the sky above, dazing her. Cacophonous blasts followed their illumination but it was unlike any thunder or lightning she had ever seen. She caught sight of another prismatic burst to her right and thought, only for a moment, that she had glimpsed armoured figures in its wake on the road. Blinded by the light and terrified by what she’d seen, she ran away from them, and into the village centre.  
  
She took shelter behind a building in the market, looking out across the ice capped fjord. Her jaw dropped in terror as an army of frost giants stood on the opposite shore. The people panicked, scurrying through the village but there was nowhere to flee. The jotnar blocked them from bolting up the road. A horrible, roaring sound ripped through the village as a whirlwind of ice froze the fugitives in place, cutting off their screams. The mother and child sat just outside the reach of the ice. She mustered her strength and got up, running down the road in the opposite direction of the advancing frost giants.  
  
Out of the mist came the armoured figures towards her. She leapt out of the way, dodging down a sideroad, weaving through the houses. She skidded to a stop as she spotted jotnar cutting through the sideroads towards her. Most of them were headed towards the battle but two of them sighted her. Frantically, she looked for a way out but she was blocked on all sides. She looked down at her baby, still clutching her wolf through all the chaos. Her green eyes were wide with fear, her cheeks streaked with tears.  
  
_I have to hide her _, she thought.__  
  
Desperately, she searched her surroundings for somewhere to hide when her eyes landed several meters away, on a basket. They were piled high on the side of a small market stall. She glanced up at the approaching jotnar and sprinted towards the stall. She ducked below the cover of the buildings, twisting through the sideroads, trying to buy herself some time from the pursuing jotnar. She made it to the stall and placed the child inside.  
  
“Mama!” she cried as her mother released her. She held her arms out towards her, beseeching her mother to pick her up again.  
  
“Shh-shh, it’s alright,” her mother cooed at her, tears flooding her eyes as she caressed her daughters cheeks.  
  
The child’s mewling lessened with her mother’s gentle touch. She held her mother’s hands, gazing up into her eyes. Her mother pressed the child’s hand to her own cheek, cherishing this last touch. Her tears froze to her cheeks but she did nothing to stop them. She heard heavy footsteps coming towards them and grudgingly, pulled away from her child, placing a lid over the basket to muffle her cries of distress. She ran out onto the road, shouting to get the giants’ attention. They chased after her back towards the fjord. Her child screamed inside the basket, hunkered down at the bottom, clutching her little wolf to her chest as hard as she could. As the mother reached the main road, pursued by the frost giants, she heard the chilling sound of the howling whirlwind once more. Turning into the ice, she sent one last prayer to the gods to save her child.  
————————————————————————————————–--------------------------------------------------------------------  
In the aftermath of the battle, two Asgardian berserkers walked slowly through the village, taking in the mournful scene. Humans frozen solid to the ground where they stood, huddling close together with their families or attempting to flee the chaos. The village had been annihilated in the ensuing battle between the Asgardians and the Jotnar. There were no human survivors. Even though the Asgardians had driven the frost giants back, this was hardly a victory. They walked past the figure of a frozen young woman; she seemed out of place amongst the other statues of people, turned towards the ice rather than away. The two started up a smaller road, away from the centre of the small village. The leader of the berserkers, Kodlak, walked with his long time friend and shield brother, Skjor. They looked in every house, hut, and stall for any signs of life. They found none.  
  
“This is hopeless,” Skjor said, gesturing at the barren landscape.  
  
“Don’t give up just yet, Skjor,” Kodlak urged him.  
  
“There’s nothing here! No one! The frost giants killed them a-” Skjor was cut off by Kodlak’s raised hand. Annoyed, he tried again, “There’s no one lef-”  
  
Kodlak cut him off again, shushing him. “I hear something,” he said.  
  
“A jotunn?” Skjor asked, raising his sword.  
  
“No,” Kodlak whispered, taking soft steps forward. He followed the little noises to a small market stall. As he approached, the noises stopped. He peeked inside the wrecked stall but saw no one.  
  
Skjor crept by him, pressing into the stall to ensure it was clear. Kodlak rounded the side of the stall, finding nothing but stacked baskets of grain and produce. Questioning the integrity of his old ears, he began to turn away, when one of the baskets came tumbling to the icy ground. Skjor came bounding out of the stall, sword raised, turning wildly, looking for the source of the noise. From within the basket, the two warriors heard the cries of a small child. Kodlak stepped towards the basket and opened the lid, peering inside to find an infant girl cowering at the back. He reached in and pulled the little girl out. She was so small; just bigger than his outstretched hand. He straightened up and looked around for any group of frozen statues that could have been her parents. Skjor lowered his sword and looked at Kodlak.  
  
“What do we do with her?” he asked. “Her parents are gone for sure.”  
  
The tiny child reached up towards Kodlak, taking a fistful of his beard in her little hand. With her other hand, she reached up and touched his cheek, gnarled from countless battles over the centuries in service to the Allfather. Her tender touch melted his heart.  
  
“I’m going to keep her,” he said.  
  
“You’re what?” Skjor exclaimed.  
  
“I’m keeping her,” he repeated. “We’ll take her back with us and raise her with the others.”  
  
“But she’s mortal,” Skjor attempted to argue but he knew his effort would fall on deaf ears. He sighed, exasperated at the thought of another child rampaging through the halls. “She’s gonna need a name,” he huffed, dejected.  
  
Kodlak stared into the little girl’s eyes and lovingly replied, “I’m going to call her Sigyn.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Loki imagine:  
> A Midgardian raised on Asgard.  
> Something, that no mortal deemed possible.  
> You were taken in, by the King and Queen of Asgard, as an infant.  
> But, you never imagined you would live out your days here.  
> You don’t know much about myself.  
> Who your parents are, where you were born, or why you were abandoned.  
> Do you regret it? No.  
> You’re thankful for the life you’ve been given.  
> However, that doesn’t mean your mind never wanders.  
> Relationships unfold and secrets are revealed, as you attempt to live your life upon Asgard, as one of Royalty.

Kodlak held little Sigyn to his chest and turned back towards the centre of the village, Skjor following behind. They passed by the frozen young woman once again. The baby cried out, reaching towards the statue. She tried desperately to wriggle free of Kodlak’s embrace. Unable to hold on to her any longer, Kodlak set Sigyn down gently on her feet. She tottered towards the frozen figure, collapsing at her feet and hugging the statue’s leg. Kodlak and Skjor looked at each other, disheartened, both realising who the statue was to the child. Sigyn cried and began pushing on her mother to get her attention but to no avail. Kodlak scooped her up again, fearing for the child’s own safety in this cold. Before he could straighten up, Sigyn locked her little arms around the statue’s neck.

“Come on, little one,” Kodlak whispered to her. “Let us leave this place.”

With a heavy heart, he pulled her away from the statue and held her closer to him so she did not have to see. She screamed and cried and hit him with all the fury her little fists could muster. Finally, exhausted, she settled down and cried into Kodlak’s shoulder as he carried her away. Skjor stayed a while at the frozen woman’s resting place, taking in the weight of what the frost giants had done. There was nothing he, or anyone else, could do for her now. He prayed she had reached Valhalla and could now watch over her child in peace.  
Kodlak approached the other Berserkers. Seeing that he had returned with only a small child, they all lowered their heads in anguish. They had been unsuccessful in their search for survivors in the devastation. Erik, one of the biggest warriors Asgard had ever seen, pulled out a small fur tucked into his belt and gave it to Kodlak to wrap the little child in. He bundled Sigyn up in the fur. She sniffled, her eyes and nose red from crying.

“She’s coming back with us,” Kodlak said to the warriors.

“If the Allfather approves,” Skjor added, having caught up to Kodlak and the others.

Kodlak gave him a stern look and proceeded towards the gathering Einherjar. The Berserkers followed behind. The Allfather stood at the front of the warriors, looking down at the destruction, his right eye very recently blinded by the Jotunn king, Laufey, before his retreat. He watched as Kodlak, Skjor, and the rest of his Berserkers walked towards him in silence. His heart sank at their lack of success in finding survivors until his eye landed on the little bundle in Kodlak’s arms. The old warrior stopped before him.

“My king, this little girl is the only survivor,” he said, revealing the child’s face. “We found her alone in the village. I have reason to believe her parents were killed in the attack and left her in an attempt to save her,” he paused, looking down at little Sigyn. “I wish to take her back to Asgard with me,” he said.

The Einherjar murmured amongst themselves at Kodlak’s wish. No mortal had ever set foot in Asgard. It was simply not allowed. The King stepped forward, sending a quick hush over all his warriors.

“Let me see her,” he said, his voice oddly hushed. Kodlak passed the child to the Allfather. Sigyn looked up at Odin’s newly mangled visage and cried out in fear, reaching back for Kodlak. The Allfather held onto her, reminded of his own son Thor, wondering if he would have the same reaction to him when he returned. He gave the upset child back to Kodlak, calming her instantly.

“She could live at Jorrvaskr. We’ll raise her with the others,” Kodlak said.

“She’s Midgardian. A mortal,” Odin stated. “Her life will end far sooner than you will be ready.”

“We could give her a better life on Asgard. Better than any life she could have here. She’s just a child. She does not deserve this,” Kodlak explained, looking down again at Sigyn.

The Allfather watched them carefully. He recognised the loving look in Kodlak’s eyes. Odin had felt the same once upon a time.

“Very well,” Odin said. “She may stay on Asgard for her short life.”

Kodlak looked up from Sigyn, thanking the Allfather with a simple nod, unable to say anything more.

“However,” Odin continued. “The battle against the Jotunns is not over. I need you and the rest of the Berserkers on that field. You have one day on Asgard.”

“Yes, my king,” Kodlak agreed.

————————————————————————————————–

The Bifrost returned the king and his warriors to Asgard. The Berserkers rode back to their hall, Jorrvaskr situated within the perimeters of the great golden palace. The hall had been home to Asgard’s most elite warriors for eons. The Berserkers were bound to the Allfathers and sworn to protect Asgard and her people for eternity.

The Berserkers entered Jorrvaskr, following behind Kodlak and their newest ward. They filed in through the great front doors of the massive hall. The ancient structure had been built long before even their memory, from the overturned hull of an ancient Asgardian ship. The Berserkers helped each other out of their armour, throwing the pieces towards eager young warriors-in-training for cleaning. These teens, soon-to-be Berserkers, scampered about, tending to the Berserkers, giving them horns of mead and plates of food, bringing healing supplies to those in need. They quickly got to work cleaning the armour of blood and filth for the warriors’ next battle. One young boy struggled to haul a pile of heavy weapons in his arms off to the forgemasters for repair and sharpening, another diligently removed layers of dirt from a large cuirass.

Kodlak walked in with the child, weaving through the fray of warriors, and sat at the long table that ran down the centre of the main hall. He uncovered Sigyn from the fur and held her in his lap. She had calmed down for the most part, more from awe of what her eyes saw than true comfort. She looked around her at the gigantic hall and all the giant warriors, then straight up at the high, vaulted ceilings, leaning so far back Kodlak had to catch her before she fell backwards out of his lap.

Suddenly, the doors leading downstairs were thrown open and a gaggle of small children erupted from the stairs. They ogled the warriors as they put their weapons and armour on racks. “Is that real blood?” one of them asked.

“It looks real to me,” another answered.

“Of course it’s real, idiots,” a girl’s voice piped over them. “The Allfather wouldn’t call them if there wasn’t a real fight.”

“Did you kill them all?” another asked.  
“How many were there?”  
“What kind of formation did you use?”  
“Can I touch your armour?”  
“Did you die?” 

Before any Berserker could answer, another question would be shouted over the others. Skjor sighed, not wanting to get involved. He begrudgingly walked over to them. The next generation of Berserkers crowded around the warriors, practically climbing up them. Their eagerness to learn what battle was like a product of their training. These young ones trained from a young age alongside the Berserkers until they had matured into fierce warriors. It would be many centuries before any of them set foot on a battlefield. For them, however, it was eternity. 

“Alright, alright!” Skjor managed to shout over them, pulling them off the warriors. “You little bilgesnipes! Get out of here! Let them be. There’ll be plenty of time for stories when this war is over.”

“Ahhhh,” the children collectively whined, dejected. The Berserkers, happy for the interrogation to have ended, snuck away downstairs to their own quarters to wash up and rest. The children started to wander away when one of the keener among them, Aela, noticed the little baby on Kodlak’s lap.

“Who’s that?” she asked, running over to Kodlak. The others joined, herding around Kodlak. He picked Sigyn up, raising her above his head to keep her out of reach of the other children. Sigyn saw the herd of children running towards her and cried. Kodlak stood and hugged Sigyn to his chest again.

“Now, settle down,” he said to the other children. “You lot are scaring her.” The children quieted down, wanting to know more about their new guest. “This is Sigyn,” Kodlak continued. “She’s going to stay with us now.”

“She’s so small,” Aela commented. “Where’d she come from?”

“We found her on Midgard,” Kodlak explained to the children.

“Midgard?” they children wondered.

“Found her? Where are her parents?” Vilkas, one of the twins, asked.

Kodlak sighed. “Her parents and her people were killed by the frost giants,” he told them. “She was, sadly, the only one to survive the attack on her village.”

“Oh no,” the little ones gasped.

“So now, she is going to be a part of our family here in Jorrvaskr,” Kodlak continued. “But Aela is right, she is very small, which means you cannot roughhouse with her like you do with each other. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Kodlak,” they all replied together.

“Is she going to train to be a warrior?” Aela asked.

“Perhaps,” Kodlak said.

“She’ll never be able to hold a sword,” Farkas, Vilkas’ twin, commented. “She’s too small.”

“That’s fine, ice brain,” Aela said, looking smugly at Farkas. “Swords are stupid. Bows are better anyways.”

“What!” Farkas exclaimed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Only an idiot would think a bow is better than a sword!”

“Fight me!” Aela screamed.

“Oh, here we go,” Skjor sighed. The two children squared up and went at each other, screeching, fists flying. The other children quickly formed a circle around the two, cheering them on. The noise upset Sigyn and she began to cry once again. Skjor stood, mildly annoyed, and walked into the circle of cheering children. He stooped and picked up the two fighting children by the backs of their shirts, lifting them both off the ground, and carrying them to the door like a mother wolf with pups. They continued taking swings at each other in front of him. He opened the door to the yard and dropped them down on their feet. They hadn’t even hit the ground before they were at each other’s throats again. Skjor, unphased, put a hand behind each of their heads and swiftly knocked them together, sending both to the floor. “That ought to stop that,” he said, satisfied with his work.

“Ow,” Aela and Farkas groaned, rolling on the floor. Skjor chuckled at them. They climbed, dizzily, to their feet and glared at each other. Before they could go at it again, Skjor pushed them out into the yard. The other children ran after them still cheering, nearly knocking Skjor over. Once all were out, Skjor slammed the doors behind them.

Skjor sat down again at the table in a huff, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s more exhausting: battle or children.”

“I think we’re going to find out with this one,” Kodlak chuckled, trying to calm Sigyn. She continued to cry and squirm in his arms.

“Who’s that crying?” Tilma, the servant, called. The elderly woman entered the room from the kitchens, striding over to Kodlak and Skjor. “Who’s this little one?” she asked.

“Her name is Sigyn,” Kodlak replied. “A little, fussy Midgardian.” He struggled to keep Sigyn in his grasp as she kicked and cried with renewed energy. Tilma watched Kodlak struggle with the child and then turned away, disappearing into the kitchen, leaving the two warriors to deal with the child.

“You’re holding her wrong,” Skjor taunted Kodlak. Sigyn writhed about in his arms, trying to get down.

“Oh yes, and I’m sure you know the proper way to hold a-,” Kodlak began to say before getting a baby fist to the face. Kodlak held the child out, keeping her an arm’s length from his face. He turned to glare at Skjor who had fallen out of his chair laughing. Sigyn, seeing the old man’s reaction, put her little hands over her mouth in surprise but couldn’t hold back her own giggles.

“Oh, she’s going to fit in just fine here,” Skjor laughed. Kodlak rolled his eyes at him.

“I don’t understand why she’s so fussy now. She was fine just a minute ago,” he said.

Tilma returned from the kitchen with a bottle of milk and a small plate of fruit and cheese. Sigyn immediately stopped squirming, mesmerised by the glorious plate of food.

“You two really have no idea how to raise children,” Tilma said. “Oh, give her here, you big brute.” She took the child from Kodlak and sat down at the table. She held the hungry toddler on her lap as Sigyn eagerly threw her hands towards the fruit on the plate. The two men stared in awe at the now calm child, happily eating a piece of apple.

“In our defence,” Skjor began. “Normally, when they get here, they can at least tell us when they’re hungry.”

Tilma stared at him, unamused. “When will you leave again?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” Kodlak answered. “Can you care for her and the others until we return?”

“Like I always do,” Tilma replied, helping little Sigyn hold the bottle to her mouth.

After Sigyn had had her fill, Kodlak took the sleepy baby downstairs to his quarters. He set up a makeshift crib for her in a room adjacent to his own. He watched her fondly as she drifted off to sleep, exhausted from her ordeal. He had no doubts he would return to see her again after the battle on Jotunheim. He had reason enough to hate the Jotunns. The thought of returning to raise this little Midgardian was motivation enough.

————————————————————————————————–

When the battle ended, thousands of Jotunns lay dead at the hands of the Asgardians. Laufey had surrendered and the Casket taken from his halls. The Allfather called the Bifrost to return himself directly to the palace. The tiny frost giant he had taken from that desolate realm, sat content in his hands. He carried him to the royal chambers where Frigga sat on the bed, holding their son. Little Thor squealed in delight at seeing his father. He leapt off his mother’s lap and toddled over to his father, grabbing his long cape. Frigga called him back.

“He could not wait for you to return,” Frigga she laughed as Thor teedered about on his newfound legs. Odin strode to the bedside and looked down at them. Frigga lifted her gaze from Thor to Odin and noticed the squirming bundle in his arms. “Odin,” she whispered, eyes wide. “What is that?”

“I found him abandoned in the temple of the Jotunns,” Odin said. “He is the son of their king.”

“Abandoned?” Frigga asked. Odin revealed the small child to her. The baby’s eyes fell on Frigga and he squealed, smiling and giggling happily. Frigga took him in her arms. The baby giggled and took locks of her hair in his hands. Frigga looked up again at Odin. “A frost giant?” she asked.

Odin nodded. “A runt, it would seem,” he said. “Which is why the cast him out. He has no life on Jotunheim.”

“Why would they do such a thing? They are monstrous but he is only a baby!” she exclaimed.

“He is the son of King Laufey,” Odin explained. “It could be that he did not deem him worthy of being his heir and left him to die.”

“Oh you poor thing,” Frigga sighed, caressing the baby’s head. 

Thor stumbled about his feet, playing hide and seek under his father’s cape. Odin stooped to pick him up. He held the toddler at his side and continued speaking to Frigga. “I could not bear to see such a child tossed aside, so we will raise him here as our own. He and Thor are far enough apart in age that our people will believe this one is our own. We can announce him in a few weeks’ time.”

Frigga could not take her eyes off the baby in her arms. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green. He became fascinated with Frigga’s necklace, holding the medallion to his face, absentmindedly chewing on it for comfort. For a baby who had just witnessed war, he was exceedingly relaxed in Frigga’s arms. His eyelids became heavy and he fell asleep hugging his new mother.

“Don’t you worry,” Frigga whispered to the sleeping baby. “We’ll be the family you deserve.”

“What would you like to call him?” Odin asked.

“I like the name Loki,” she whispered, gently caressing the baby’s cheek.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Loki imagine:  
> A Midgardian raised on Asgard.  
> Something, that no mortal deemed possible.  
> You were taken in, by the King and Queen of Asgard, as an infant.  
> But, you never imagined you would live out your days here.  
> You don’t know much about myself.  
> Who your parents are, where you were born, or why you were abandoned.  
> Do you regret it? No.  
> You’re thankful for the life you’ve been given.  
> However, that doesn’t mean your mind never wanders.  
> Relationships unfold and secrets are revealed, as you attempt to live your life upon Asgard, as one of Royalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES/WARNINGS: I am very sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I’ve been rather busy of late and haven’t had as much time to write this as I’d like. I just finished my dissertation so hopefully I’ll have a little more time to put into this.
> 
> This chapter introduces some characters from the TV show Vikings. As with the characters from Skyrim, these characters are very, very loosely based on their namesakes from the show. Their character relationships may be vastly different from what you’re used to if you know these universes. For instance, Ragnar and Rollo are still brothers but Bjorn (who will appear later) is not Ragnar’s son as in the show.

Sigyn screamed, waking up abruptly from a nightmare. Kodlak rushed to the crib and picked her up, trying to calm her before she could wake the rest of the hall.

“It’s alright,” he cooed to her, rocking her in his arms. He sat down in a chair nearby and tried to calm the frightened child.

Skjor burst in through the door, sword raised, ready to attack whatever intruder was causing the screaming. His aggressive entrance only made the crying worse. Sigyn buried herself into Kodlak’s chest. The old man glared at Skjor, who slowly lowered his weapon. He rubbed Sigyn’s back until she had calmed down again.

“I didn’t mean to-,” Skjor trailed off. Beside him came the soft sound of scuffing feet on cold stones as Aela wandered in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why’s Sigyn crying?”

“I think she had a nightmare, little one,” Kodlak explained. “She’ll be fine. Go back to bed.”

Aela turned and left the room. Sigyn continued crying softly into Kodlak’s shoulder.

“I’ll just go put this away,” Skjor muttered, turning to leave.

Aela reappeared, carrying a small stuffed animal with her. She walked over to Kodlak and Sigyn and tapped the child on the back. Sigyn turned around and looked at her, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Aela offered a little stuffed wolf to Sigyn who slowly took it from her hands. She held it gently, admiring it before hugging it to her chest. The tears stopped and she sat quietly in Kodlak’s lap with her new toy.

“That was very kind of you, Aela,” Kodlak said.

Aela simply smiled at Sigyn’s reaction to her toy and left the room again. Skjor watched her go and looked back at Kodlak. The two men smiled at the child’s small display of generosity. Now calm, Kodlak placed Sigyn back in the crib and she slept soundly the rest of the night.

When morning came, Kodlak lifted the little one out of the crib and took her upstairs for some breakfast. The other warriors were already beginning to gather at the long table. Servants bustled about, laying out large plates of fruit, bread, cheese, and meat, along with large jugs of mead. The warriors heaped their plates full of food and filled their mugs to the brim. Kodlak sat down at the head of the table with Sigyn on his lap still clutching Aela’s wolf in her hands.

The rest of the children sat at the opposite end of the table, already full of energy. They tossed pieces of food across the table at each other, giggling when they were able to hit their targets. The warriors ignored them, more focused on the food in front of them. Kodlak made up a small plate for Sigyn and pushed it close to her so she could feed herself while he ate. She picked up a wedge of cheese and nibbled on it, watching the big warriors scarf down their food and drink. A few of the warriors began telling stories from the battlefield which immediately caught the attention of the youngsters at the other end of the table. The rowdy children quickly settled down so they could hear the stories about the frost giants’ defeat.

“—and just then, as I was pinned back against a massive wall of ice, I swung my axe with all my strength and split that blue bastard in two!” A chorus of guttural cheers arose from the other warriors as Erik recounted his fight with the biggest of the Jotunns.

“But that wasn’t the end of it! No! Once I had that one out of the way, his friends charged at me from all sides, eager to take on Asgard’s finest warrior,” he boasted, to the playful boos and hisses of his fellow comrades.

“You see, the key to any battle is to use your head,” he continued, directing his attention to the little ones, tapping his temple.

“It’s a metaphor!” shouted one of the warriors.

“Shush! It’s my story,” Erik barked. “So, there I was facing down three huge frost giants.”

The children leaned in towards the table in anticipation. The rest of the hall fell silent as Erik told his tale.

“I could have thrown my axe, but then I’d been without a weapon, so using my head, I bashed that icicle right in the head, knocking him out colder than his own blood!”

The children and warriors erupted in laughter and cheers. “Even put a dent in my helmet!” Erik shouted over the applause, showing the hall the offending blemish on his otherwise perfect helmet.

“The other two stopped _cold_ in their tracks. One swing of my axe had both their heads rolling across the ice.” The children gasped in delight at the thought of Erik fearlessly defeating all those frost giants by himself.

Sigyn, unable to understand what was being said, reacted only to the warriors’ voices and reactions. She watched and listened to them while she ate. However, they were not able to keep her attention for long. Now thirsty after eating all the bread from her plate, she searched for something on the table to drink. Her eyes settled on Kodlak’s mug. She eagerly reached for it, shakily lifting it and bringing it towards her. Kodlak was too busy urging on his fellow warrior to notice the little one. She nearly had the mug to her lips when Skjor caught Kodlak’s attention.

“You’re about to have your mead stolen,” he warned, laughing and pointing at the little thief.

Kodlak looked down and snatched the mug from Sigyn’s hands before she could drink from it.

“Oh no, no,” he chuckled. “That’s not for you, little one.”

Sigyn frowned and folded her arms. The warriors laughed at her defeated look. Tilma came from the kitchen with a cup of milk for her.

“You can’t handle a toddler now, wait til she’s drunk because of your stupidity,” she scolded.

This brought an eruption of laughter from the warriors. Kodlak chuckled, looking down at the now content child.

When breakfast ended, many of the warriors went out into the yard to train. The children followed them out for lessons of their own. Kodlak picked up Sigyn and went out on to the porch to watch the other warriors. He put Sigyn down on the ground with her little stuffed wolf and he sat down in a chair to watch the happenings in the yard. The warriors took up blunted practice weapons from racks around the porch. The children took up their own, wooden practice weapons and playfully ran about smacking each other before running off to their respective weapon’s masters for a lesson. Sigyn watched them curiously, mesmerised by their fluid movements. She found a stick in the grass nearby and stood, flailing it about in mock battle with an invisible foe. Kodlak chuckled at her eagerness. He looked out at the other children and teens, watching their form.

“Rollo, watch your stance! You’ll fall right over if you swing like that,” Kodlak instructed one of the teenagers. He stood and walked into the yard to fix the teen’s feet.

Sigyn saw her chance to play with the warriors and tried to follow Kodlak. She stopped at the steps down to the yard and turned back towards the practice weapons rack. Studying the various weapon types, she settled for the biggest she could see: the greatsword. She stood on her tip-toes, reaching shakily for the hilt. She stepped up on the base of the rack to get up higher. With the added few inches, she grasped the hilt and tried to pull it down. Lifting it free from the rack, the weight of the practice sword suddenly became all too apparent to the child. She lost her footing as the sword slipped through her hands and she fell backwards. The rack tipped dangerously towards her, dumping a cascade of practice weapons before tipping back the other direction. The collection of wooden swords, maces, daggers, and axes came down on top of her. She covered her head with her hands as the weapons clattered down around her. The ruckus caused all the warriors and children to stop their lessons. Kodlak ran over to the pile of weapons, desperate to find the child unharmed. Sigyn’s head popped out of the pile. Tears streaming down her face, she reached up towards Kodlak with her free hand. He stooped to pick her up, pulling her out of the heap of wood. In her other hand she held her greatsword prize. It slipped once again from her grasp and clattered to the floor.

Kodlak set her on the table, checking her over for any breaks or cuts. Skjor picked up the sword and set it on the table next to her. Finding nothing more than a few bruises on the child, Kodlak straightened up and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Guess her eyes were bigger than her muscles with this one,” Skjor sniggered, pointing at the sword. “Bigger than her, that is.”

“It’s not funny, Skjor,” Kodlak growled. “She could’ve been hurt.”

“Aye, but she wasn’t. Look, she’s fine. No more tears.”

Sigyn wiped her face with the backs of her hands. She reached for the sword and dragged the hilt onto her lap, sheepishly looking up at Kodlak. He sighed again, ruffling the girl’s hair. He picked up her wolf toy from the ground and gave it to her.

The children watched at the bottom of the steps.

“I told you she’d never be able to hold a sword,” Farkas teased Aela, laughing with the other boys.

Aela leapt at him, tackling him to the ground as the others gathered to watch another Aela versus Farkas sparring match.

The warriors took their break in the shade of the gabled roof over the patio, watching the children beat themselves into a pulp. Sigyn picked at the hilt of the wooden greatsword in her lap. The teens walked over to the table. Rollo flopped down on the bench, setting his axe down next to Sigyn. He smiled at her before taking an apple from a nearby bowl.

“Did you know the queen was pregnant?” Ragnar asked his brother from across the table. “We have a new prince.” He added showing Rollo the holographic projection of the queen with her new child.

“Another one? How many do we need?” Rollo joked. “She never looked pregnant.”

Lagertha walked up to the two, taking the projection box to look at it herself. “Of course she didn’t. She’s a queen. It’s her job to look ethereal even when she’s pregnant, idiots,” she chided. “His name’s Loki. Look at that black hair! Wonder who he got that from?”

“You ought to respect the royal family, Rollo.” Kodlak cut in, scolding the teenager. “One day, you’ll be sworn to protect them. And that means all of them.”

“Yes, Kodlak,” Rollo replied, dejected.

Sigyn was fascinated by the projector in Lagertha’s hands. She set it down on the table for the little one to look at. Sigyn thought for a moment that the woman in the projection looked right at her, smiling and waving, holding a small child in her arms. She reached out to touch the pretty lady but her hands fell through the image, empty. The others chuckled at her curiosity.

Aela and Farkas were still fighting with one another. Aela had a fistful of Farkas’ hair, determined to remove it from his head. It was then that several of the Royal Guard turned the corner, entering the yard. The warriors and older children stood. Skjor quickly separated the brawling children and tossed them into line with their peers. Kodlak beckoned to Sigyn, who crawled down from the table, wooden greatsword in hand. She dragged it along behind her as she ran over to Kodlak and the other warriors. When the King appeared, surrounded by his Guard, the Berserkers all knelt, placing their right arms across their chests. Sigyn looked around, confused. Mimicking the warriors around her, she put her left arm over her chest.

The King waved his hand and the warriors rose. “Please,” he said softly. “Go about your activities as normal.” The warriors returned to their drills and Skjor herded the children to the other side of the yard to continue their lessons. Kodlak straightened up and greeted the King warmly.

“My King, I offer my congratulations on your new son, our new prince,” he said.

Odin smiled. “And how is your little one settling in?” he asked, looking down at shy Sigyn. She held onto the back of Kodlak’s leg, hiding from the gaze of the one-eyed man. “That’s quite the weapon she’s got,” he chuckled.

“Yes, she’s definitely got spirit, that’s for sure,” Kodlak told him, gently touching the top of Sigyn’s head. “She’s settling in alright. I do not think she quite understands what has happened but she seems to be content for the most part.”

“She’ll soon forget about Midgard,” Odin said. “It is better her memory is only of here, where she will grow.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
When the Allfather had returned to the Palace, he visited his Queen in their chambers. She cradled her new son in her arms while Thor played with a wooden hammer on the bed next to her. Odin approached them.

“Our people seem to be accepting the announcement well,” he said, sitting on the bed beside her. Frigga continued to stare lovingly at the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms. Thor crawled over to them and began hitting his father with his little hammer, giggling happily. Odin picked him up and set him on his lap.

“He’s so well behaved,” Frigga said, her gaze unwavering.

“Frankly, I do not believe you,” Odin replied, struggling to hold the child still as Thor grabbed a handful of his beard.

Frigga looked up and giggled. “He is _your_ son,” she replied. “I was talking about Loki. He’s so calm and quiet—” Thor took the opportunity to smack Odin in the face with his hammer.

“It’s a nice change,” Frigga continued, trying not to laugh at her husband’s reddened face as he took the hammer away from Thor and tossed it into the corner. The toddler rushed off the bed to get it back. He ran, wobbly-legged across the room, tripped and flopped onto the floor. Pushing himself up again, he looked back at his parents for their reaction.

“Try again,” Frigga encouraged him. The toddler regained his legs and ran towards the little hammer. Eager to continue beating his father up, he ran back to the bed, stumbling several times. He giggled loudly as Odin put his hands down as little targets for the boy to smack. The laughter woke little Loki from his sleep.

“Oh dear, they’ve woken you up with their roughhousing, haven’t they?” she cooed at Loki. He looked over at Odin playing with Thor and reached out for him. “Odin, dear, he wants you.”

“Loosen your grip on the handle, little one,” Odin instructed Thor, oblivious to his wife’s request.

She sighed. “Come, Loki, it’s time for you to eat anyways,” she stood and left the two there playing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Loki imagine:  
> A Midgardian raised on Asgard.  
> Something, that no mortal deemed possible.  
> You were taken in, by the King and Queen of Asgard, as an infant.  
> But, you never imagined you would live out your days here.  
> You don’t know much about myself.  
> Who your parents are, where you were born, or why you were abandoned.  
> Do you regret it? No.  
> You’re thankful for the life you’ve been given.  
> However, that doesn’t mean your mind never wanders.  
> Relationships unfold and secrets are revealed, as you attempt to live your life upon Asgard, as one of Royalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry with how slowly I’m getting these chapters out. I admire those authors who can turn out chapters every single day but I’m just not a fast enough writer to do so. I did work really hard on this chapter which is in part why it took so long. I would greatly appreciate it if you could leave a comment telling me if you’re still interested in my fic, what you like, and what you would like to see from my writing (please, do be nice and constructive). 
> 
> I tried to do some ‘fancy’ formatting with Sigyn’s thoughts in this chapter. Let me know in the comments if it’s something you like or something I can do without.

“Loki,” Frigga called to her son. “It’s a nice day. Why don’t you go out to the courtyard and play with your brother?”

Loki looked up happily at his mother from the floor of his room. Thor had gone out before sunrise, leaving Loki by himself. Frigga joined him on the floor, caressing his cheek.

“Mother! Mother! You have to see what I can do! Watch! Watch!” he exclaimed. 

He scrunched up his face and clenched his little fists as tight as he could. He muttered the runes under his breath, concentrating hard. A flash of green shown around him and he transformed into a little black mouse. The mouse scurried towards Frigga and leapt onto her lap. She held out her hand and the mouse stepped on as she lifted him closer to her face. The little mouse posed, showing off his sleek looks.

“Oh, look at you!” she gasped, admiring Loki’s attention to detail in his transformation. “You look stunning.” She set him down again. Another flash of green and Loki returned to his natural form.

“What do you think?” he asked eagerly. His green eyes sparkled.

“That was a marvellous transformation, Loki! Soon you will be able to transform into bigger creatures and hold the spell for much longer. You just have to keep practising,” she said.

“I’ve been practising for hours! When do you think I can turn into something bigger? I want to transform into a big, strong horse! Or maybe a bilgesnipe! Oh no, I know! A dragon!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms like wings and running circles around his mother.

“Slow down, slow down!” Frigga urged him, giggling at his eagerness. “You have to start small with these things.” Loki plopped down on the floor again, frowning and folding his arms.

“But I want to do transformations like you do,” he said.

“And you will, Loki, in time. One day you will be Asgard’s greatest sorcerer. A master of magic! But everyone has to start somewhere. When I was your age, I could barely hold the form of an ant, let alone a mouse! You are doing splendidly.”

“Do you really think I could be that good? As good as you?”

“Maybe even better,” she said, hugging him. “Now, go out and play with your brother in the courtyard. You need the sunshine.”

“Alright, mother,” he said, hopping to his feet. He took his little wooden daggers with him, tucking them into his belt. Father always told him that a good warrior was never caught unarmed.

He bounced down the spiral staircase and made his way through the palace to the courtyard. The sprawling yard was host to a number of training activities this morning. Men on horseback charged at practice targets, foot soldiers formed shield walls to fend off their opponents. The Einherjar were training in groups on the far side of the yard. Their practice weapons scared Loki. He didn’t like the way they crackled and hissed with electricity. He was sure to keep his distance. 

Odin presided over the yard, sitting high above on a balcony. Huginn and Muninn sat either side his chair. The Allfather watched his warriors train, knowing well that peace had been achieved but a well prepared and trained army was necessary even during peace. He noticed Loki walking through the courtyard but did not move. 

Loki smiled and waved at his father but he did not see. His attention was elsewhere. Loki spotted Thor and his friends, Sif, Volstagg, Hogan, and Fandral, in the corner of the yard. They were huddled closely together, surely planning some game. Fandral saw Loki approaching and whispered something to Thor. He turned and addressed his brother.

“Where have you been all day?” he asked.

“I was practising my spells! Watch! Mother says I’m getting really good.”

He squeezed his eyes shut again and concentrated real hard, muttering the runes. A flash of green lit up the faces of the waiting children and revealed a little black mouse.

Thor’s friends erupted in laughter. Sif covered her mouth, stifling her own laughter. The little mouse cowered at the outburst. A sudden flash of green and Loki appeared once more.

“Ha! A mouse?” Volstagg teased, tears forming in his eyes.

Loki was mortified. He looked to his brother for support. Thor was doing his best not to laugh with his friends.

“Uh, yeah, Loki, that’s… that’s great! I guess we just don’t see how useful that is,” he stammered between giggles.

“Mother says if I keep practising that I could transform into much bigger creatures,” Loki protested.

“What? Like a rat?” Fandral taunted. He and Volstagg practically fell over laughing. Thor kicked them and they started to calm themselves. The laughter had caught the attention of the warriors in the courtyard and the King himself. Odin now looked down on his youngest son with unwavering eye, his face could only be read as steely disappointment.

Loki stared at the ground, downtrodden by his friends’ reaction to his spell.

“Look, Loki, maybe you should go back to practising and when you can do something more impressive, then come and show us,” Thor said.

“I was hoping I could play with you, brother,” Loki said softly, looking down at his feet.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We w—”

“Mother said you have to let me play with you!” he piped in.

Thor scoffed. “Fine. You can play but you have to play what we’re playing.”

“Okay!” Loki said, happy his brother had agreed without more protest. “What are we playing?”

“Hunt the Frost Giant,” Sif said, smiling wickedly at Loki.

He folded his arms. “I don’t like that game. You always pick me to be the giant.”

“Well that’s what we’re playing so get used to it or get lost,” Thor said. “Maybe you’ve spent too much time as that mouse. You’re starting to act like one, coward.”

Loki sighed. He glanced up at his father, who now watched their interaction closely. Not wanting to look weak by leaving, he agreed to play their game.

“We’ll draw straws to pick who’s the giant first,” Thor said, scooping up some straws of hay from the ground. He stood with his back to everyone, carefully arranging the straws so they were even in his hand. He turned and offered the first one for his brother. Loki scrutinised the straws and drew the one he thought was longest. Thor offered the others theirs. One by one they drew and Loki realised that his straw was looking quite short compared to the others.

Once everyone had drawn, they all held their straws out towards the middle. Loki’s heart sank as his was clearly the shortest. The others giggled at his distress.

“Looks like Loki is the giant, again,” Fandral taunted.

“This should be easy,” Volstagg agreed.

“Alright, Loki. You know the rules. If you make it to the ice room before we catch you, you win. But if we catch you, we win,” Thor said, hefting his wooden hammer onto his shoulder. “And no magic, mouse boy! We’ll give you a thirty second head start.”

“Sixty!” Loki protested.

“Twenty-nine,” Thor continued. The others readied their weapons, laughing at their easy target.

Panicking, Loki took off towards the exit from the courtyard back towards the Palace. He ran through the twisting hallways and corridors. Darting back in forth between servants and attendants, he made his way down a staircase, getting closer to the kitchens and the ice room.

“There he is!” Sif shouted.

Loki gasped. _How did she get there?!_ he thought. She ran in through the entrance on a landing, cutting off his route to the kitchens. Thor and Fandral had caught up to Sif and blocked the entrance Sif had come through. Loki stopped on the steps and turned back to find Volstagg and Hogan careening down the stairs towards him. There was no other way for Loki to go. 

His chest heaved, out of breath from the run. He quickly assessed his options and made a split second decision. He leapt down the rest of the stairs and dove for the opening between Sif and the wall. Sif swung her wooden sword but Loki dove just beneath the blade and scampered down the stairs. Elated by his small victory, he ran with greater speed, making the mistake of turning his back to his opponents. 

Thor’s hammer hit him with all the force of a charging bilgesnipe, knocking Loki down several steps. The other children approached, encircling him.

“Sort of a little giant, isn’t he,” Fandral laughed as he drew his wooden sabre. Sif, Volstagg, and Hogan were closing in behind him. Losing this early in the game would certainly warrant a week’s worth of taunting and teasing. Loki knew he had to get away.

“I’d say that was fatal,” Volstagg remarked. The others laughed. 

Loki whimpered from the stairs. Slowly, he pulled himself to his hands and knees. He wasn’t ready to quit.

“Not quite,” Thor said, picking up his hammer. Another blow hit its mark on Loki’s side, putting him back on the floor.

“That oughtta do it,” Thor said.

Tears stinging his eyes, Loki lay on the floor, trying to regain his breath. His back and chest throbbed.

Thor sighed. “Come on, brother, get up. We didn’t think you’d make it very far anyways.” Thor stepped closer to his brother, leaning down to give him a hand up.

Loki took his chance, quickly drawing his wooden dagger and lunging at Thor, stabbing him in the abdomen. Thor let out a yelp as Loki leapt to his feet and ran off.

“The hunt continues!” Volstagg laughed, running off with the others not far behind him. Thor took a moment to recover himself. After a moment, he straightened up and smiled.

Loki jumped down the stairs two at a time, hoping to put distance between himself and his pursuers. The kitchens were just ahead and then down another few steps to the ice room. 

_I could make it,_ he thought. _I could really win this time!_

He flew through the kitchen door and stopped only a moment to throw it closed behind him. The cooks and servants were used to intrusions like these now. Loki ducked and dodged under servants bustling about with heavy trays.

“We’ve got him now!” he heard Hogan cry. The other children had made it through the door.

_Why do these kitchens have to be so big?_

Loki spotted the doorway to the ice room. He was so close but he needed to slow down the other children who were closing in fast. He looked about quickly. Two cooks were carrying an entire roast hog to be laid out for supper tonight. They crossed directly in front of Loki’s path. Dropping to his knees, he slid beneath the mass of meat and leapt to his feet on the other side.

“No!” Thor shouted. “Get out of the way!”

 _That’s it!_ Loki thought. _I’ve done it! I’ve finally won!_

He crossed the threshold of the ice room and felt a sudden tug at his ankles as he tripped down the steps. He stumbled down the steps, looking down to see a tripwire at his feet. He looked up in an instant to see a cascade of blue paint falling from a barrel above, covering him head to toe. It got into his eyes and stung. It tasted bitter on his tongue. Shaking his head frantically, he stumbled backward and fell. He rubbed his eyes desperately to get the stuff out. Hot tears stung his cheeks. He could hear laughing. Cruel, wicked laughing.

He looked up to see his brother and their friends pointing and laughing at him.

“Look! His eyes are even red!” Volstagg cried.

The five children howled with laughter at the little prince turned blue. Volstagg rolled on the ground, unable to contain himself. Fandral leaned on Hogan, laughing hysterically. Thor just smiled at his brother. 

Loki coughed and sputtered. Finding his feet again, he looked down at his clothes and skin turned blue by the paint. He was humiliated. His whole body shook with emotion. Pain, rage, despair, fear. Thor approached him. 

“Ah, brother,” Thor laughed, opening his arms to him. “Now that you look the part, shall we finish our game?”

Loki cried and ran away from his brother. He ran back through the kitchens, up the stairs, past guards and servants and nobles, leaving a trail of the blue paint behind him.

He burst into this mother’s chambers, still coughing up the vile substance.

“Loki!” Frigga exclaimed. “What happened? Who did this?”

“Thor and his friends!” Loki choked. Frigga scooped him up and whisked him off to the baths. The little boy sobbed into her shoulder, smearing blue paint into her gown.

“Draw a bath, quickly,” she ordered the servants.

The servants drew a warm bath for the prince.

“Leave us,” Frigga commanded. The servants quickly left the room, shutting the doors behind them.

She wiped away as much of the paint as she could before placing the little prince in the tub. She noted the bruises and welts that had formed on his body.

“It’s alright, Loki. We’ll get all of this off of you,” she said to him, scrubbing him rigorously with soap.

“I only wanted to play with them,” he managed to say between sobs. He rubbed his face aggressively trying to wipe away the blue from his eyes. Frigga took his hands and gently cleaned his face.

“I’ll handle them, don’t worry,” she said.

Frigga lifted him from the water and dried him off. Using scented oil, she scrubbed the more difficult patches of blue on his skin, finally removing the last of the paint. She dressed him in his favourite green tunic and trousers. He sat quietly while she brushed his black hair back the way he liked it. When she was done, he hopped down from the stool and walked towards the door, gingerly rubbing his side where Thor’s hammer had hit him.

“Loki,” Frigga said. The boy stopped at his mother’s call but did not turn to face her. She hurt for him. She could not stand seeing him so depressed. He had such trouble fitting in with the other children, especially his brother. He needs to find friends of his own, she thought.  
The Berserkers, ever the King’s protectors, continued their day to day training and activities. Young Sigyn had settled in among the warriors and children in the hall and had begun her training with them. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun dawned and the children of Jorrvaskr were already wide awake. After a quick breakfast, they spilled out of the hall and into the courtyard. Little Sigyn, slightly smaller than the other boys and girls, darted back and forth between them in order to get to the practice weapons rack first. She leapt up and grabbed her favourite greatsword off the rack, beating Vilkas to it once again. He glared at her, taking the other beat up practice sword off the rack instead. Sigyn slung the sword behind her head, across her shoulders, smiling triumphantly at the annoyed twin. This had been their game; a race that began the moment they woke and rushed to the table for breakfast. Sigyn’s agility gave her the advantage among the other children. Despite her small size, she could outrun nearly all of them.

Skjor strode into the yard, a smug grin on his face as he took the sword from Sigyn’s hands. Vilkas laughed at her despair and smoothly stretched out his hand to take the sword from Skjor. But the old warrior had other plans. He walked over to Aela and dropped the sword at her feet. The little archer, quite confused by the gesture, held her little bow closer to her chest in defence. Skjor took the bow from her anyway and tossed it to Vilkas who stared dumbly at the unfamiliar weapon.

Skjor looked around at the other children. “Everyone else, trade your weapons with each other. I want everyone to use a different class weapon than normal today,” he ordered. Confused and slightly heartbroken, the children traded their weapons about. Sigyn stared dejectedly at the dagger in her hands given to her by one of the other children. The smallest weapon for the smallest warrior. She looked back towards the pavilion where Kodlak stood. He smiled and chuckled, glad to have the upper hand over his gaggle of wards for once.

“If you’re going to be a Berserker one day, you’ll need to have mastery of all weapon types,” Skjor continued, walking about his students. “The best warriors can turn anything into a weapon but we’ll start with these. Partner up or head to the targets.”

The children moped to their respective groups. Sigyn trudged over to Aela who stooped to pick up the greatsword from the ground. She struggled to get a good grip on it. Sigyn corrected hands on the sword, smiling up at her friend. 

“Thanks,” Aela said.

Sigyn shrugged. The children awaited Skjor’s command to begin sparring. Sigyn looked down again at the dagger, assessing it’s light weight in her hand. Without a shield, she would have to rely on dodging and her footwork to avoid getting hit. Aela had the advantage with a longer weapon, doubling her reach but her unfamiliarity with the sword would work against her.

“Begin!” Skjor shouted, startling Sigyn out of her strategizing.

Aela began with a hard lob over her shoulder. Sigyn dodged the shoddy attack easily, stepping aside. She made for an opening on Aela’s side with the dagger but misjudged the length of the unfamiliar weapon and missed, sliding behind Aela’s back. Aela turned, swinging the massive weapon around in a semicircle in an attempt to hit her target. Sigyn jumped back, dodging the swing. The two took a moment to regain themselves. Aela readjusted her grip on the greatsword. Her chest heaved with the effort of swinging it around.

Sigyn watched her opponent carefully, gauging her next move. Aela always attacks first, she thought. Aela started at her again, this time holding the weapon upright. She raised it above her head for another downward hack but Sigyn took advantage of the opening to Aela’s vitals, thrusting the dagger into her chest.

“Agh!” Aela cried, dropping the weapon in frustration. 

Sigyn looked back at Kodlak, standing under the porch, watching the children. He smiled at her and nodded.

“This is impossible, Skjor! I can’t swing this branch around!” Aela exclaimed, kicking the sword. Sigyn turned back to her friend and stooped to pick up the sword. Skjor was watching the children firing arrows at the targets. 

Despite having only one good eye, he was able to see everything. These children were all cunning enough he had learned that it was best to keep an eye on all of them at once, often joking that he could beat the Gatekeeper at his own job. He had seen Sigyn’s ‘fatal’ blow to Aela’s chest. He had even anticipated the eruption of frustration. He looked over at Aela and Sigyn and frowned.

“Keep going until your quivers are empty,” he ordered the children at the targets. He turned his attention to the two girls and walked over to them, an eyebrow raised at Aela’s tantrum.

“You’re complaining a lot for a dead girl,” he chuckled as he approached.

“I don’t know the first thing about this sword!” Aela said.

“You are too focused on attacking—”

“That’s all you can do with this thing!”

Skjor sighed. “Is it? Is there nothing else you can do with it?”

Aela scoffed. “Burn it.”

Skjor looked to Sigyn. “Well, you’re the greatsword expert. What else can she do with it?”

Sigyn looked down. She hated being put on the spot like this. She, of course, knew the answer but it did not feel right to tell Aela what to do. Aela was the best pupil here.

“Well?” Skjor said.

“Y- you can block with it,” Sigyn stammered. “Hold it out, across your chest like this.” She demonstrated with the greatsword and then handed it back to Aela.

Aela took the weapon and mimicked Sigyn’s stance.

“This way you block off those big openings you’re leaving for Sigyn to stab at,” Skjor instructed. “Remember to use your head. Be strategic. You’re facing off with an unfamiliar weapon against an unfamiliar weapon. You have to know your attack inside and out. What opening are you leaving? Where are your feet? Where are your hands? Are your vitals exposed? Where’s your opponent? Where are they looking? Now, try again.”

Aela and Sigyn squared off again. Sigyn waited to see if Aela would still make the first move. She wasn’t wrong. 

Aela started towards her slowly, keeping the sword up in a block. Sigyn stepped to the left, in a wide circle which Aela began to counter. They continued until they had switched sides when Sigyn made her move. She feinted towards the blade of Aela’s sword causing Aela to swing haphazardly. Sigyn leapt to Aela’s other side. Now, off balance, Aela’s back was left wide open for Sigyn to strike. Thrusting the dagger again, Sigyn knew she would hit her mark.

Aela let the end of the sword drop to the ground as she used her now free hand to grab Sigyn’s wrist and pull her in towards her. A swift turn and yank and Sigyn was face to face with Aela. Startled and confused, Sigyn attempted to recoil and get out of Aela’s grip. Aela smiled, throwing her head back and then forward again, headbutting Sigyn.

A flash of stars flooded across Sigyn’s vision with a burst of pain and then darkness. A moment later, her sight returned and she sat up from the ground. Things were fuzzy and she felt half deaf. She rubbed her head where Aela had hit her. A small knot had formed above her left eye near the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t see out of her left eye at all.

“Sigyn!” Kodlak shouted from across the yard. He sprinted over and knelt down beside her.

She held back tears from the pain and embarrassment and shook her head in attempt to get her vision and hearing back.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

“Of course you’re not. Look at me,” Kodlak urged her, gently lifting her chin so he could look at her blackened eye.

She looked up at a fuzzy Kodlak, shaking her head again to clear her vision. Kodlak held her chin and gently touched the side of her face, studying the knot on her nose and her black eye.

“That doesn’t count, Aela,” Farkas shouted, laughing with the other boys. Aela herself couldn’t manage to stifle a little giggle as she approached the two.

“Sorry, Sig—”

“What were you thinking?” Kodlak shouted, whipping around to face Aela, Sigyn’s face still in his hands.

“I- I- I was just using my head, you know, like Erik says—” Aela trailed off.

“You could have killed her! You’re much stronger than she is. Remember, we talked about this. You’re not supposed to hit her that hard! She’s- She’s,” Kodlak turned back to Sigyn.

“What?” she looked between Aela and Kodlak. “You wh--? I’m what?” she asked, her good eye filled with angry tears. Her lip quivered as she awaited an answer.

“You know what I mean, little one. You’re mortal. You can’t take the big hits that we can,” he said gently.

“Yes I can!” Sigyn shouted. “And I did!” Rage filled her tiny body and she threw off his hands and pulled herself up. She turned to face him as he stood. She puffed out her chest, making herself look as big as possible. “You always say that I’m different but I can do everything they can do!” she shouted. “If you just gave me a chance, I could show you that!”

The other children had gone silent, gaping in shock at Sigyn’s outburst. She was normally so quiet they could lose her in an empty room. No one had ever heard her yell before, especially not at Kodlak.

Sigyn wobbled on her feet. She put her hand to her head again and steadied herself.

As astonished as everyone else, Kodlak stared back at her. “Sigyn,” he pleaded.

Sigyn looked around the yard at everyone staring at her in shock. The rage fading, she became suddenly aware of herself and her outburst. She looked at Kodlak in terror. She shook her head again, this time at her own actions. Stumbling over herself, she ran to the doors of the hall and flung them open, running inside. She ran right into Tilma, nearly knocking her down.

“Sigyn? What happened?” she asked earnestly, noting Sigyn’s black eye.

Sigyn just backed away and ran downstairs to her room. She grabbed her wolf off her bed and hugged him. Sitting down on the bed, she brought her knees up to her chest. She was mad and scared and hurt and embarrassed all at once. She buried her face in her arms, wiping away the tears trying to escape her eye. The other warriors never cry, she thought.

She gingerly touched around her blackened eye and the knot on her forehead. The door to the Quarters opened and she froze. Holding her breath, she listened to the approaching footsteps. She leapt off the bed and dove beneath it just as the door to the room opened. She saw Kodlak’s boots at the threshold.

“Sigyn,” he said. “I know you’re in here. Come on out.”

She felt torn in all directions. She didn’t want Kodlak to be mad at her but she was so mad at him and embarrassed at what she had done. The indecision froze her in place.

Kodlak waited patiently for Sigyn to reveal herself. He knew where she was. Ever since he had brought her here, anytime she felt scared or upset, her first instinct was to hide in the smallest space she could. In her room: under the bed. Elsewhere it could be anything from a cupboard to an empty barrel. After some time, when she didn’t appear, Kodlak sighed.

“I understand, little one. Take your time. We can talk about this later.” He turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Sigyn let out her breath. She curled up into a ball under the bed. The cramped space made her oddly comfortable. She was glad Kodlak had left. She just wanted to be alone. Her head ached. She tried desperately to clear her mangled thoughts. 

_I’m not so different from them, she thought. I’m just a little smaller and die when I get old. That doesn’t mean I’m weaker._

_But Aela downed me with a single blow. Maybe I am weaker. Maybe I really can’t be a warrior. I want to so bad._

_But I’ve gotten so good with the greatsword. Rollo said he couldn’t even stand upright with a greatsword when he was my age. I can do it. I’m the best with the greatsword. Vilkas won’t admit it but he knows it too._

_Am I weak? What if the others just go easy on me because Kodlak tells them too? Is that what they’ve been doing forever?_

_I’ll show all of them that I’m good at being a warrior. I’ll be the best warrior in all of Asgard. I’ll be the best Berserker in history._

_I’ll never be a Berserker._

She hugged her wolf hard and fought with herself for hours. Finally, exhausted, still in pain, and hungry, she crawled out from under the bed. She felt as though one of Eorlund’s steel pokers had been driven through her eyeball.

“Ouch,” she whimpered, holding her head in her hands. She swallowed hard and blinked her good eye rapidly. This only made the pain worse. She shook her head again and slowly climbed to her feet, using the bed as a stabiliser. Trudging heavily across the floor, she thought about what she would say to Kodlak and the others. She rounded the corner to the door leading upstairs, still holding her hand against her black eye. Putting a hand on the door, she paused. 

_What will I say?_

She sighed and opened the door quietly. She could hear the raucous laughter and commotion at the dinner table.

_Maybe I can sneak in and no one will notice me,_ she thought, hopefully. 

She silently ascended the stairs and peeked through the railings. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. The warriors were all laughing and telling stories, as usual. The other children were teasing each other and throwing food at one another, as usual. Then, she spotted Kodlak and Skjor at the head of the table. They were not partaking in the shenanigans. The two old warriors were discussing something earnestly. Kodlak was shaking his head in apparent disagreement as Skjor spoke to him. Sigyn took a deep breath and walked up the rest of the stairs.

Silence fell on the room as she appeared at the top of the stairs. She kept her eye down, focusing on the grain of the wood floor rather than the shocked faces of her friends. Her stomach turned. Her face burned. She no longer felt hungry. Walking towards the benches on the children’s end of the table, she searched desperately for a place to sit. Aela pushed Farkas off the bench and onto the floor, making room for Sigyn.

“Over here,” she said, putting her hand on the seat. Farkas got up from the floor and took his plate around to the other side of the table.

“Thank you, Farkas,” Sigyn said, softly. He smiled kindly at her as he found another seat. Sigyn crawled up onto the bench between Aela and Rollo. The others had begun talking again, to Sigyn’s relief, continuing their conversations and stories.

“How do you feel?” Aela asked. Sigyn could see the guilt on her face.

“I’m fine. Just a little hungry,” Sigyn replied.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It was a fair move.” Sigyn rubbed her bad eye and smiled at her friend, trying to reassure her that everything was alright.

“No,” Aela said, looking into Sigyn’s eye. “About… about what… about taking it easy on you.”

“That’s not your fault,” Sigyn replied, glancing up at Kodlak.

He watched her from the head of the table but did not speak. Sigyn filled her plate with food and ate quietly, listening to the other children around her. Thankfully, none of them talked about what had happened in the yard today. She ate quickly. Once finished with her plate, she got up from her place and tried to sneak away from the table.

“Sigyn,” Kodlak’s voice boomed across the room.

She turned, reluctant to face him.

“Come with me, little one,” he said, gently. “We need to talk.”

Sigyn looked down at her feet and walked over to him. He stood and beckoned for her to follow. The room had hushed once again, all ears trying to catch a whisper of what might be said. Kodlak did not have favourites among his wards but it was no secret that he was most fond of Sigyn. For the warriors and children to see them at odds was as intriguing as heart-breaking. Kodlak understood this and led Sigyn outside, into the yard, away from prying eyes and ears.

He lit a few candles on the chandelier and on the table so they could see. The light was dim but Sigyn liked it. Looking out from under the gabled porch, she could see billions of stars. As Kodlak turned back towards her, she let her eye fall back to her shoes, keeping well away from his steely gaze.

“Come and sit,” he said, softly. “By me.”

Sigyn climbed up on the bench beside him and plopped down, folding her arms. She stared at the candle flame, watching it dance to the soft wind.

Kodlak took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “You know, when we found you, all alone on Midgard, you were so tiny,” he began. Sigyn looked up at him for the first time. Her brow furrowed with his mention of her size. She knew this story, though she did not remember it well, except for the nightmares that sometimes haunted her sleep.

“I could not believe that this little girl in the basket was the only mortal to survive this atrocity,” he continued. Sigyn’s expression softened. “You were just a baby; could barely stand up on your own legs. We looked for your parents but…” he sighed again and looked down at her. Sigyn quickly looked away. “You were scared of us. Rightly, of course. We were strangers, covered in Jotunn blood. I’m sure we looked terrifying. I picked you up and held you close. And then… you looked into my eyes and it was like the fear just melted away. You twirled your hands into my beard and.. and then reached up with you tiny, little hand and touched my cheek.” Kodlak paused for a long while as if savouring the memory.

“It was then that I knew I was going to take you back with me to Jorrvaskr. Ha, to Skjor’s dismay!” he laughed. “Because, we did not really have many dealings with humans. Mortals were forbidden to enter Asgard, but in that moment, there was no stopping me. I was going to get you back, even if it meant breaking my oath to the King.”

Sigyn gasped. The thought of Kodlak thinking of defying the Allfather for her was Asgardshattering.

“I took you to the Allfather and asked his permission to take you back to Asgard. It was a bold request, I admit. But as I said, I would not be stopped. You were just a baby. You did not deserve the pain you were already suffering. You did not deserve to pay for the war we had caused… Thankfully, and rather surprisingly, the Allfather gave me that permission and I brought you back here.

“You were so much smaller than the others. I had never really cared for a child so small before. I thought you were so fragile that the slightest bump or scratch might break you. The other children were as rough then as they are now and I feared they would play too rough with you; that you might get hurt in such a way that would…” he paused.

“That I’d die?” Sigyn asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her arms slipped out of the knot she’d wound them in, her hands dropping into her lap.

Kodlak looked down at her, this time making eye contact. He nodded slowly.

“It sounds silly but I’d seen how easily Midgardians could perish. Sickness could kill them in a matter of days, a fall from the wrong angle could snap a neck, a blow to the head… could kill instantly. It was all terrifying to me.”

“But you’re not afraid of anything,” Sigyn said softly.

Kodlak chuckled at the child’s response. “Not of many things, no,” he said. “But there are times I do fear for you. And that is a great weakness. Not for me but on you.”

Sigyn cocked her head to the side. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Kodlak looked into the distance. “My fear for you has come out in my constant smothering of you. I told the other children to take it easy on you. I asked them to pull their punches when sparring and not to hit you too hard when practising. I’ve tried so hard to protect you, to ensure that you don’t get hurt, that I’ve held you back from your true potential.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened at the old man’s confession. She could not find any words. They both sat still in the silence, staring out at the stars.

“You are a good little warrior, Sigyn,” Kodlak said, finally breaking the silence. “And I know that one day you will be a great one. Asgard’s Midgardian Berserker.”

Sigyn looked up at him in shock. 

_Does he really think I could be that good?_

_He’s probably just saying that to make you feel better._

“Do you really think so?” she asked, looking up at him in earnest.

“Of course I do,” he said. His expression was gentle and kind. He put his hand around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You have such spirit. No matter how hard something is for you, you continue to try until you get it. You know, Skjor says you’re stubborn like me.” He looked down at her and laughed. She could not contain her own smile, snuggling closer to him.

“That’s not such a bad thing,” he said, chuckling. “I promise, little one, from now on I won’t coddle you. You’re growing up so fast…”

He turned so he was looking directly at Sigyn. Her green eye shimmered in the candlelight. “You’re not like them but that’s alright. Your strengths are different from theirs. Use them to your advantage in your training. You are smart. I see the way you analyse your opponents attacks. You’re fast too and light on your feet. Not something many two-handed tanks have. I believe in you, Sigyn. If you continue to put your all into your training, I could see you becoming a very good Berserker. Maybe even one of the best.”

Sigyn let out the breath she had been holding. She had never felt such relief. He really did believe in her. _If he believes in me, I can believe in me,_ she thought, hugging Kodlak. 

“I’ll make you proud,” she said.

“You do every day,” he said.


End file.
